My Story

The chronicle of the journey from infertility, to miscarriage, to finally raising twin girls born in June 2012.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

The stupid things that occur to you

The last several posts cover about an hour, hour and a half.  And during that time, you'd think that I'd be so focused on the bigger picture of the trauma that was occurring that nothing else would be in my brain.

But wow, the stupid things you think of under duress!

I'm obsessed with chapstick/blistex.  I keep it on my desk, in my purse, it's everywhere.  And throughout this whole ordeal, I keep requesting my fucking chapstick.  Like every 2 minutes, K has to hand it over to me.

It's so dry, but they'll only let me have ice chips.  Good lord I don't want ice chips, that's what women in labor get and I don't want to be in labor so I don't want to have to accept the damned ice chips.

I'm wearing my favorite jammies.  I love these jammies.  My most comfortable flannel pants that my mom made me and my most comfortable nightgown.  Will I ever be able to wear them again without associating them with this?  I don't want to have to throw these jammies out to save my mental health later.

It's too bright, can I have a wet washcloth over my eyes?  My eyes are so light sensitive, we had even asked my doctor in my last appointment if I could wear sunglasses in the OR when I delivered because my eyes just hate light.  Probably all of those years of working backstage in theater.

There's a total bitch out there who said I shouldn't be a mother and it kills me that she might have the opportunity to gloat.

I don't think K is going to work in the morning, he should probably text his boss.

No matter what happens, don't tell my mother until it's over.  I can't handle trying to not be in pain to save her from sympathy pain.

Poor K was already half asleep when this all started.  He must be exhausted now.

Wow is our sex life over.  Those cramps that an orgasm creates, so not going to risk that again.  Sorry Hon, you're on your own for a few months.

The doctor that was here for most of this, what the fuck was her name?  Zillerman?  Zimmerman?

I tend to swear like a sailor in my daily conversation, I'm surprised only one or two shits or fucks have escaped my lips while in all this pain.

Well, I guess this was an interesting rehearsal.  I now know I'll survive the pain I suppose.  I was trying to avoid thinking about that, but at least now I have a clue as to what I'm in store for.  That's a good thing?

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please share your thoughts! It makes me feel like I have friends.